


Shelter through the rain

by bloodandcream



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Amputee Castiel, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Librarian Castiel, Prostitute Meg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-10
Updated: 2014-10-10
Packaged: 2018-02-20 14:36:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2432372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloodandcream/pseuds/bloodandcream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fitting Cas into her life twice a week became a routine for Meg. She stopped by the library most Friday’s just to sit in one of the chairs and read whatever Cas had suggested for her that week. Tuesday’s were their day to go to the diner together and talk about what they were reading. They both liked each other, but they didn’t like themselves very much so they kept with the quiet understanding not to pry into each other’s lives or their pasts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shelter through the rain

Meg pulled her thin, tight coat - mostly for show - over her chest as she darted from under one awning to the next, leather mini skirt riding up her thighs, wobbling on wet pavement in six inch heels. It was a bit early to be out already, only ten pm, but it was dark and she needed to fit in as much work as she could. Although she doubted she would get much tonight if the rain kept up. The sky had been clear when she got off the bus, but by the time she stepped foot on the stretch of block that was her hunting grounds, the rain started to pour.

There was a public library around here somewhere. She was still new to the area, and although she knew the best corners to hook on because her friend was kind enough to show her around, she didn’t know the best coffee shops, or where the library was, or what second hand stores you stood a chance of finding slutty clothes in. She’d figure it out, in time, as long as she could keep paying her friend enough to crash on the couch.

Spotting the lights of the public library, a two story metal and brick structure wedged into a row of shops, Meg darted across the street. At least the library was open late on Friday and Saturday, until midnight. That seemed late to her, but Seattle was a big city. Dripping rain water on the beige carpet as she pushed the matted hair from her face, the place was pretty empty but a patron flipping through a stack of books towards the front gave her a dirty look. Meg sauntered past with extra sway to her hips as she winked at him.

Going to the bathroom first, she wiped the runny make up off her face and wrung her hair out in the sink. Shimmying her skirt down and adjusting the straps of her heels, she went back into the main section of the library and sat in a large plush chair by the front window, watching the rain. A few patrons came and went. The librarian tidied books from the tables and shelved DVD’s. Having nothing better to do, Meg watched him work. He was kind of cute, white button down shirt with an argyle sweater vest over it, dark slacks, plain black rimmed glasses on his face. His hair was messy, and his bright eyes squinted at her before darting anyway anytime he caught her watching and she made lewd faces at him. Meg always did have an antagonistic streak.

By the time that midnight was rolling around, the rain had at least slowed to a patter, so she made her way back out into the night, grateful it wasn’t too cold so that the light drizzle wasn’t unbearably miserable. Johns weren’t out too much in the dreary weather though, so it was still a slow night.

-

The next Friday had better weather, but Meg found herself strolling down the block towards the library anyway. She had to use the bathroom. That’s what she told herself to justify sauntering through the library in her little purple sequin dress and fixing her make up in the mirror.

Her feet were tired. Working in six inch heels wasn’t particularly easy. Well, technically she worked on her back and knees, but, luring clients in six inch heels wasn’t particularly easy. The chairs in the library were comfortable though, so she settled down at the front to rest for a few minutes, watching the quiet librarian bustle about tidying shelves and trying to watch her while avoiding being noticed. Meg was good at noticing.

She left after only a half an hour though, too early in the night to justify a break.

-

The next Friday had started out well, a chilly late summer night, but she already had a client finished before eleven o’clock came around. Leaning against a lamp post watching the cars speed past, hips canted and long legs bared, tits pushing up out of her dress and wavy dark hair swaying with the windy weather, Meg was thinking about the library - rather she was thinking about the librarian - but she was determined not to be a hopeless romantic who constructed fantasies from thin air.

Then it started raining. Big fat drops fell gently for a while, until the whole sky opened up and a deluge began. Cursing and trying to play hop scotch from awning to awning again, Meg wound her way around the block and headed towards the library. It was nearing closing time already by the time she was there, soaked, in a dark red dress pulling even tighter against her body with the rain.

Tired and frustrated, she plopped into one of the chairs without even going to the bathroom, dripping water and soaking everything she touched. The quiet librarian had looked up from his desk when she came in with a loud bang of the door. He approached her, and Meg figured he would probably ask her to stop using the premises and offending the patrons or some sort of crap like that.

Instead he came over and timidly asked, “Excuse me, do you have a library card?”

She hadn’t expected that. “What, why?”

"I’ve seen you here a few times, but you’ve never checked anything out. I could get a card for you, if you like."

"Don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’ve kind of been using this place for it’s free bathroom."

"I have noticed. You could still check out books if you like."

"I’m not really much of a reading person."

He was standing next to her chair, looking a bit disappointed that someone could dare not like reading.

"Oh. We do have books on cassette as well. "

"You really want me to get a library card huh?"

"The services are free, if you return materials on time. You come here anyway."

"Yeah, I do. Kinda should be going back to work though, and I don’t know if I want to be carrying a bunch of books around until four am. Though I guess if I put on a school girl skirt with it, might help me get more business."

He had to know what she was, maybe he was one of those rare people that didn’t like to make assumptions, but she was dropping hints at him trying to get a read. There might have been a slight blush on his cheeks, but his irritatingly sexy voice didn’t show any more emotion than the last few minutes of their conversation.

"You could always come by on a day off."

"I guess I could."

"It’s almost closing time, should I get a card for you?"

"Sure, why not."

"Please come up to the desk and I’ll take your information."

Meg followed after him, giving her friend’s address and home phone number, taking the shiny new library card from him she tucked it down into her cleavage while she gave him a wide smile with red painted lips. His gaze never left her eyes.

-

Meg didn’t really have a schedule. It was one of the things she liked about her line of work, she could make any schedule she wanted to. Some weeks were good weeks and she could make enough for rent in one night, although that left every other bill and food for the next weekend. Some weeks she went home with sore feet and strap marks gouged in her ankles, no more cash in her bra than she left with. But she was picking up on the work well enough, learning to read Johns, the shifty ones, the well meaning ones, the desperate ones. Her friend had said she was enough of a slut she might as well make money for it. Meg had to agree, it was something she was good at. Most people didn’t like their jobs anyway.

A few weeks after she got her slick new library card, Meg found herself bored and alone on a Tuesday night, no need to walk the streets cause hey there was a can of soup in the cupboard, a half loaf of bread left, and even a few eggs in the fridge. She had a few twenties for bills, rent was paid last week. She figured she deserved a night off. When she had a few free hours, she usually liked to walk through the public parks, but it was raining again. Of course.

Arming herself with an umbrella and a practical coat that actually kept weather out, Meg put on jeans and boots and made her way towards the library. She wasn’t sure if the librarian worked on Tuesday, but it was seven o’clock and she figured if anything he probably kept to the same late shift. Although the library closed at eight during the weeknights.

She recognized his ass bent over to fit something low on a shelf before she saw his face. Leaning against the shelf, she watched him until he stood up and turned, almost running in to her for how close she was. He squinted at her, and gave a small attempt of a smile.

"Hey, I’ve got tonight off and a library card burning a hole in my pocket. Any suggestions?"

He nodded, his face very grave as though giving serious consideration to her query.

"Ah, do you prefer fiction or non fiction?"

"Fiction."

"Something with romance, political intrigue, action?"

"How about all of it."

"Hm. Well a very popular one right now is A Song of Ice and Fire."

"That’s the Game of Thrones books right?”

“Yes.”

“Yeah, I’ve seen a little of that on tv, do you got that in?”

"Let me see."

He shuffled off, fingers trailing the spines of books as he made his way down an aisle and she trailed after.

"We do have the first book. I don’t see the second but I could always put it on hold for you while you borrow the first."

“Why don’t I read it first and we’ll see.”

“All right.”

He led her to the front desk and checked the book out with her new card, placing it in a plastic bag before handing it over.

"I’m glad you decided to give reading a try. It can be a very rewarding hobby."

"To be honest, it’s not really the books I came back for."

He blinked at her, face unregistering and she wondered if he even understood any forms of subtlety and flirtation, although she didn’t really think that she was being all that subtle.

"I don’t think I ever got your name."

“It’s Castiel.”

"I’m Meg."

"I know, it’s on your library card."

She could almost guess that was a joke, the corners of his lips curving up just a little.

-

Meg took the book and began reading. Surprisingly, she found she enjoyed it. Unexpectedly, she remembered reading as a little girl, when she was very little and she could still fit in her father’s lap while he read picture books to her. And a little older, when he would make forts out of couch pillows where she could hide and read in by herself. When her father died and she went into foster care, she didn’t read a whole lot after that. She was too busy being angry at the world.

But she could remember, the sense of wonder and the sudden immersion in a different world. When she wasn’t working, she spent most of her free time reading, and found herself skipping hours of sleep just to read. By the time next Tuesday rolled around, she was already finished with the book.

Meg decided that she could afford another day off, especially one that was as usually slow as a Tuesday was. She wrapped the book in a plastic bag, given her luck with the weather, and walked to the library. Castiel was working again. He smiled a little more than he usually did this time, when she handed the book back over.

"Did you enjoy it?"

"I really did. Do you have the second in?"

He checked the book back in and typed a few things into his computer, scrunching his mouth up.

"No, it hasn’t been returned yet, I’m sorry."

“That’s all right, have you read this series?”

"I’m afraid not. I don’t read non-fiction much."

"What do you normally read?"

"I like religious texts, philosophical works, memoirs. A lot of different things really."

"That’s cool."

It was already seven forty five, nearing closing time, and she didn’t have another book to take home. Meg didn’t want to start another when she was in the middle of a series.

"Hey, you got any plans after work?"

"I don’t."

"You wanna get some coffee, maybe dinner?"

The wide eyed slow blink he gave her was almost comical. He seemed to consider the offer carefully, giving them an awkward silence to stare at each other. Sure, he was a nerdy librarian with glasses and no fashion sense, but he was a nice guy.

"All right."

Meg browsed the library and actually took her time to read a few book summaries while the hour wound down and he finished shelving.

-

Meg had told him she knew a good twenty four hour diner a couple of blocks away, so they decided to walk. On the way she noticed that he had an odd gait to his walk, a stuttering kind of step, but she didn’t ask about it. They talked about books instead, and the miserable weather lately. Meg wasn’t too keen to talk about her past, or even her present much, but Castiel didn’t seem like he was going to voluntarily offer anything on his past either, so it was a mutual accord.

She had a regular spot at the counter by now, swinging her feet off the swivel stool with the cracked red vinyl cover. Castiel sat stiffly in his seat, head turning this way and that to take in his surroundings. The place was empty except for them, which was normal this late. Meg usually came for coffee midway through her work, but she avoided the hours of one to three with the drunk crowd rush at bar closing time.

They had barely sat down a minute when the tall waiter with obscenely pretty lips came bustling out.

"Meg! Well look at you, a stranger could mistake you for an honest woman."

“Haha, fuck you Dean.”

"Sorry sweetheart, I can’t afford your price."

The chef pushed open the swing door and leaned against the frame.

“C’mon Dean, don’t be a jackass. Good evenin Meg, how’re you doin today sugar?”

"Hey Benny, I’m doing good, got a night off."

“Got a friend with you?”

"This is Castiel, he works at the library couple of blocks over."

"Hello."

Dean nodded at him, his gaze completely unabashed in it’s roaming. Meg figured a lot of the prostitutes working the city blocks around here probably favored this diner because the late night chef and waiter were non threatening. Plus, listening to their lover’s spats in the kitchen could be damn funny.

"What can I get you two?"

"Coffee please."

"I’ll have coffee too. And, you wanna make me a spinach omelette?"

"It ain’t breakfast time."

"Well you got eggs and a stove haven’t you?"

"Yeah yeah, I’ll get your omelette. You want food Cas?"

"I’ll have… a cheeseburger please."

"Sure thing. Be back with the coffee in a sec."

They chatted about inconsequential things while they waited for the food. Meg didn’t have a whole lot of light hearted things in her life to talk about, but she told Castiel that she was new to the city. Although he said he didn’t get out very much, he seemed intent to let her know where there was an improv theatre down town, where the best second hand book shops were, the best time of day to go to the parks, where a Mediterranean market was with excellent prices on spices. Meg wasn’t sure she could use this information, but she was curious enough she might just check it out. Cause it was something Cas was interested in, and then they’d have something to talk about next week.

-

Fitting Cas into her life twice a week became a routine for Meg. She stopped by the library most Friday’s just to sit in one of the chairs and read whatever Cas had suggested for her that week. Tuesday’s were their day to go to the diner together and talk about what they were reading. They both liked each other, but they didn’t like themselves very much so they kept with the quiet understanding not to pry into each other’s lives or their pasts. Instead, Cas read A Song of Ice and Fire so he would have something to talk to her about. And Meg started to read the things that Cas liked, trying to slog her way through some philosophical and religious texts for him. She read Aristotle, St. Augustine , Lao Tzu.

Although she didn’t much understand what she read, she understood what Cas said when he explained it to her. What she liked most about those discussions though, was how he seemed to come alive, how he got more animated talking about what truth means and what knowledge is, more than anything else. It was his passion.

She thought about kissing him, she thought about following him home, she thought about giving him a blow job in the library bathroom. Sex was the framework or at least a side note for most of the friendships that Meg developed. It was odd having a friend that never blatantly expressed his interest in her that way, although she caught him blushing suspiciously or averting his gaze too quickly every now and then. It was kind of sweet. To have a friend who shy about sex around a hooker. She wanted more but she didn’t want to fracture what they had.

Autumn moved on, the wind picked up and the chill was sharp enough to cut bone deep some nights. She wasn’t too sure what she could do when winter came around and the snow started. She figured she’d just keep doing what she did although it would be harder to sell goods if you had to cover them up. At least she had a small clientele base of regulars by this point.

The only bad thing about regular John’s was them knowing her habits and schedule, and thinking that they could take more from her than she wanted to give, thinking that she owed them. It’s how she ended up running bare foot through the maze of backroads and alleys one night, an eye starting to swell shut and her lip split, before finding her way to the diner in a panic.

Maybe it was because it was closer than her friend’s apartment, but to be honest it felt more welcoming and warm at the diner, without the stranger’s that were always sharp and dangerous, without the drugs that cycled through the living room at her friend’s.

Meg shuffled into a booth in the far corner of the diner, flipping off a guy at the counter that leered at her. Dean glanced her way, face pinching in when he saw her but he was busy taking an order. Through the large open window to the kitchen, Meg saw Benny catch sight of her too. A minute later he was bustling out, with a bag of chipped ice and a kitchen towel.

"Sugar, what happened, do you need me to call the cops?"

"Nah Benny, it’s fine, thank you."

"You’re gonna be all right?"

Meg set the ice gingerly on her eye, nodding, uncertain why a chef seemed so concerned about her but it was kind of nice.

"I gotta get back in the kitchen, I’ll send Dean out with coffee in a minute."

"Thank you Benny."

"Don’t mention it, let me know if you need anything."

Meg leaned her head back, feeling better with ice on her face, but her hands wouldn’t stop shaking. She realized absurdly that she wasn’t wearing shoes and shouldn’t that be against the health code. Then Dean was there with a cup of coffee, and a plate of pie.

"I didn’t order this."

He scowled at her. “Just take it.”

"I can’t pay for -"

“It’s on the house Meg. Jesus, just… listen you can stay here and drink as much coffee as you want till you feel safe ok.”

"I’d never leave if I was waiting to feel safe."

"Seriously, you need somethin, you let me and Benny know."

Meg just nodded and accepted the pie. He didn’t look soft like he wanted to hug her and talk about it, he was looking pissed off and ready to punch someone. She didn’t know what to make of that.

-

Meg had a pretty impressive black eye, even with make up on it looked swollen and discolored. She didn’t get as much business the rest of the weekend. She almost considered not going to the library to see Cas on Tuesday. She didn’t want him to see her like that. Even though she didn’t know how it was that he would see her, she didn’t want him to see her how she saw herself when she looked in the mirror. Like she was a scared, weak little girl that couldn’t take care of herself.

But she was selfish and Tuesday’s were the highlight of her week. Meg slipped on her favorite purple shirt and a comfortable pair of jeans before heading down to the library. Cas was checking someone out at the front desk when she slipped in, going to the sci-fi aisle to browse for a new book. She heard his quiet footsteps behind her, steeling herself to turn around with a cocky grin on her face like she’d forgotten, like if she could make him not notice.

Of course he did. As soon as he saw her face he stepped forward into her space and placed a hand lightly on her cheek, turning her towards him.

"Meg what happened, are you all right?"

"Yeah, hey, it’s nothing Cas."

Stepping back from him, she swatted his hand away.

"How did - "

“You know how it happened, or you can at least use your imagination, unless you want the step by step details huh?”

"That’s not what I meant."

"Yeah I know."

He looked like he wanted to say more but she brushed it off. “Hey, did you know purple’s my favorite color. It matches my shirt.”

The supremely displeased squint he gave her was worth it.

She wanted to ignore it, so he ignored it. Meg checked out a new book, and dawdled waiting for him to close the library. They walked to the diner together, like usual. It was the same Tuesday that the last few months worth of Tuesday’s had been, the same spot at the counter, but she could feel him hovering protectively even though it had already happened and in all honestly it wasn’t like he could keep it from happening again. His hand was settled lightly at the small of her back, or on her arm, he opened the door for her, he studiously avoided looking at one side of her face.

Meg couldn’t stand it, she hated people being nice to her like that, treating her like she was delicate, like she needed them. She knew what needing people got her.

So she ended up snapping at him when he’d been too nice, glaring at a patron down the counter from them who wouldn’t stop staring at her until the man moved on. Meg knew she was making a scene, being unreasonable. Cas just took it quietly, adjusting his glasses in that nervous way he did, before excusing himself to the bathroom.

Before she knew what was happening, Dean was at the counter in front of her, looking highly unimpressed.

"Meg let me give you a piece of advice that was hard learned on my part."

She opened her mouth to argue that she didn’t need his advice, didn’t need his pity, but he cut her off with a hand gesture before she could start.

"Now I get you probably don’t want to hear this, think I don’t got anything to say you that could mean anything. Just listen a second."  
He rested his elbows on the counter and leaned closer to her.

"Just because abuse is something that’s familiar to you, just because it’s what you understand, what you know, that doesn’t mean that you deserve it. That’s not all there is out there sweetheart. And it can take a while to get used to that, to not needing to keep your defenses up, letting yourself be taken care of. But, now this is important, if someone wants to be good to you - for the sake of it, not just when they want something back - then you accept it, you say thank you, and you do right by them."

Dean pushed himself up from the counter and swiped a hand over his mouth.

"I’ll be back with the coffee in a sec."

He turned his back and Meg said quietly, half hoping he’d let it go, “I thought you weren’t too keen on me Dean-o.”

He just looked over his shoulder when he replied, “Yeah well, when you drop the tough shit act, you’re not too bad.”

Meg sulked the rest of the night, feeling very put in her place, and very resentful of it. Cas was nothing but polite, if not a little withdrawn after he came back from the bathroom. Dean had heaped extra fries on his plate next to his usual burger. At least someone could do nice things for him.

-

By the time Friday rolled around, Meg was wondering if she should pop by the library, still feeling avoidant although the bruise around her eye was faded to a sickly yellow that could be covered well by make up. She was wearing a pink pleated mini skirt and a sheer black lace shirt over a hot pink bra, a denim jacket keeping out the cold, legs bare and long on her black strappy high heels. It was getting too late in autumn to keep up the dress code, she mused as she shivered, curling her arms around herself for warmth but pushing her tits up at the same time.

Her decision was made for her when it started pouring rain. Pulling her jacket tight and making her way towards the library, not even bothering trying to stay under the awnings because she’d be soaked by the time she got there anyway, Meg was dripping wet and trembling with cold when she pushed the door open. It was almost midnight, and she hoped she’d at least warm up a little by the time she had to go back out to the streets.

Cas rounded the corner of the front desk as soon as she came in, no other patrons in sight.

"Meg, it’s barely above sixty degrees out tonight, why are you out in this?"

"Can’t really afford not to be."

He frowned at her, then tugged his cardigan sweater vest over his head, glasses skewed, helping her out of the stiff wet denim jacket and pushing his dry sweater into her arms.

"Put this on, I’m going to go find my jacket too."

Her teeth were chattering so she couldn’t really argue, sitting down on one of the chairs and pulling his sweater on over her lace top. It was warm from his body, and smelled like him, something soft and pleasant. He came back with a trench coat, draping it over her shoulders.

“That’s sweet, but really, it’s not necessary, I’m just going to have to go back out when you close up.”

He stood in front of her, shifting from one foot to another, looking exposed in his plain white button down and blue tie without the sweater over it, and she noticed that his tie was on backwards.

"You could come back to my apartment, you really shouldn’t be out in this weather."

"I can’t just take a whole Friday night off."

"Are there people out looking for….. company, in this weather?"

Meg sighed and slumped back in the chair, pulling the trench coat around her. “Not really. But it might let up.”

"Well my apartment is a few blocks away, it’s not a far walk if the weather improves."

Narrowing her eyes, she regarded him standing tall and straight by the front window.

He felt it necessary to clarify, “I’m not asking for anything. I don’t want you catching ill.”

“Why would you care?”

"We’ve been having dinner together once a week for the past few months and you don’t…. aren’t we friends?"

"I guess."

“Friends care about each other.”

"Not the kind of friends I have."

"Then why do you call them your friends?"

“I need them for things, they need me for things. It works.”

"All that I need is to know that you’re all right."

Meg stood from her seat and slipped her arms through the trench coat. “All right.”

-

Cas had an umbrella, which he made her take as well as his jacket on the walk to his apartment. He was drenched by the time they got there, and Meg noticed his gait was worse, an evident limp as he made his way up the stairs. The fabric of his pants clung to his legs and the right one didn’t flex or move like the left, it was in-organic. Meg didn’t say anything.

Reaching the third floor, he led her down the hallway to his apartment, closing the door softly after himself. Meg shrugged out of the coat, and sweater, hanging them on hooks near the door. Cas untucked his button down and used a small corner of the shirt to dry his glasses on. She saw a sliver of his belly where the shirt lifted up, a puckered scar running over his hip.

Cas re-adjusted his glasses, blinking at her, looking about his apartment uncertain of what he was supposed to do now. Then there was a trilling from the corner of the living room, behind the couch not too far from the door. Cas turned on a light and made his way over, opening the door to a bird cage and letting a small yellow canary out, who perched on his finger.

"Hello Birdy, have you had a good day?"

The bird chirped at him.

"That’s nice. I’ve brought a guest home, I expect you to behave.

The bird chirped again and flapped away, circling the room a few times before setting on a perch that was fixed to the wall. Meg noticed that a section of the wall was decorated with different perches and bird houses.

"Did you seriously name your pet bird ‘Birdy’?"

"Yes."

Meg rolled her eyes, moving closer in to his living space, through a door on the left she saw the kitchen, and to the right was a hallway leading to what must be the bedrooms and a bathroom. It was a small apartment, furnished with eclectic taste that mostly seemed to be in line with ‘whatever is available at the second hand shop’. The couch was a hideous mustard yellow plaid, a blue floral chair next to it, a scuffed coffee table in front. There was no tv, but rows of bookshelves along one wall that were filled to overfull. There were curtains of yellowing lace over a small window, bright oriental style rugs scattered over the worn and faded wood floors. Overall, it somehow managed not to be jarring, looking instead just comfortable and practical.

Meg’s clothes still clung to her wetly, and Cas was dripping on a rug putting food in his bird’s cage. He straightened and looked at her with uncertainty, perhaps not knowing how she was supposed to fit into his space. But Meg knew how this went, despite what he had said before. They were wet, they should get out of their clothes before catching a chill, it was convenient.

She stood in front of him, still having to look up despite her heels, reaching a hand up to hold the back of his neck and tilt him down. Only, he didn’t move with it.

“What are you doing?”

"You know what I’m doing."

He pulled away then, jerking from her hold.

“I told you I don’t want that from you.”

She pushed the matter, stepping into his space again, pressing her body against his when he was backed against the wall.

"I don’t believe you. I see the way you look at me. Especially when I come by on Friday’s."

Tilting up on her toes she managed to press a light kiss to his cheek when he turned his head.

"I can’t."

"Why?"

"Why should you want me? Do you think you owe me for my kindness, do you think I require that of you just to be friends? Do you think so little of me?"

That made her pause. Meg took a step back.

"I don’t get it. That’s, none of that is what I meant at all."

"You don’t know who I am Meg, you don’t want me."

“I do.”

She reached for him again, hand to his shoulder and he stiffened.

"I’m not - I’m not whole."

The words were whispered quietly, like a terrible secret.

"Do you mean your leg?"

He looked absolutely shocked by that, that she would have the audacity to say it while still pressing her body against him and touching him and wanting him.

"You know about that?"

"I can make a guess, I’ve got eyes."

He frowned at her, eyes narrowed, pushing her back slightly but it was so he could grab the leg of his pants and tug it up a little ways, showing her a metal prosthetic where a leg should be.

"Well look at that, I was right. Doesn’t make me want to kiss you any less."

"I don’t understand."

"Hey, I’ve seen ugly people, and it’s not the body that makes a person ugly. You’re good to me Cas, that’s what matters."

He brought a hand up then, to tuck a lock of wet hair behind her ear, fingers tracing down her cheek, hand settling on her arm.

"If it helps I think you’ve got a rocking ass."

There was a blush creeping up on his face, his scowl gone.

"I like your…. ass, as well. Your everything, you’re very beautiful Meg."

"You know I’ve wanted to kiss you since the first time I saw you."

“Oh.”

Cas finally bent forward then, hand pushed through her hair, one on her waist, pressed his lips to hers and just as she was tipping forward he pulled back.

"You can give me more than that."

Huffing one of his impatient sighs, he kept on with his self deprecation.

"It’s, you know it’s not just my leg."

“I don’t care.”

"I don’t want you to see me."

"I want to see you."

He grabbed her by the wrist, guiding a hand up under his shirt, flattening his palm against the back of her hand, and she could feel smooth scar tissue and the raised lines of it’s edges, almost the whole stretch of one side a tangled mess of damaged skin.

She pushed her second hand under his shirt, circling them around his waist, pulling him closer. His skin was still clammy and wet from the rain.

"It doesn’t make me think any less of you, doesn’t make me want you any less."

He kissed her again, less chaste this time, parting his lips and breathing against her, before pulling away again.

"You’re cold and wet, I’ll get you a change of clothes."

She was left teetering in the living room when his body suddenly moved away from her.

"Seriously?"

She called after him as he disappeared down the hall.

"Yes."

"You could always warm me up."

"I plan on making you soup."

“That’s not what I meant.”

"I know."

He returned with a bundle of soft dry clothes, long flannel pants in blue plaid and a sweater that had kittens embroidered on the front.

"Do you actually wear these?"

"Around the apartment. It’s comfortable."

Meg started to pull her wet shirt over her head to change.

"The bathroom is just down the hall to the left."

She stared at him. He stared back. Her arms were still half raised with her already see through shirt up to her pink bra. He was holding out the pile of clothes. Meg pouted and took it from him, finding her way to the bathroom.

"You can use an extra toothbrush if you like, they’re in the cupboard."

-

Meg slipped into Castiel’s clothes, feeling ridiculous how small she looked in them. The shoulders of the sweater were halfway down to her elbows, and she kept pushing the sleeves up but they kept falling down past her wrist. The plaid pants were rolled up at the hems and only staying on her hips by virtue of the drawstring. She had brushed her teeth, unsure where to put the now used toothbrush she set it on the edge of the sink. Her wet clothes were hung over the shower curtain rail, bright pink underwear on display and it made her giggle to think of Cas getting flustered when he came in to the bathroom next.

She ran her fingers through tangled hair, and washed the make up off her face, before padding back through the apartment to find him. He was humming in the kitchen, the little yellow canary singing in the living room. Meg sat down at the table wedged into the corner of the small kitchen, all the chairs were mismatched. Cas smiled at her while he stirred something on the stove, toast popping up on the counter. He buttered the bread and cut it in triangles, setting it on a plate with a bowl, spooning bright green soup from the pot to the bowls and bringing them to the table.

"Split pea huh, how’d you know my favorite?"

"It’s just canned."

She nudged him with her foot under the table. He’d changed too while she was in the bathroom, the button down and slacks replaced another strange sweater that had fruit decals on the front and soft pajama pants. They were baggy even on him.

"Thanks Cas."

He ducked his head and nodded, eating with small, neat bites. Meg ate her soup silently, and it was all too comfortable, too easy between them. It wasn’t something she was familiar with.

"I don’t really know what you want from me Cas, but if it’s not sex, I don’t think I can really give you what you want."

"Can’t I enjoy your company?"

"For what purpose?"

"For the sake of itself."

Meg scraped the sides of her empty bowl with the spoon, fidgeting.

"Look, you’ll just end up getting hurt, I’m not a relationship kind of girl, I’m not a good person."

"I think you’re a good person."

"I’m a fuck up, and I’m a goddam whore."

"Have you ever thought about choosing a different career?"

She didn’t mean to, but the way he phrased it - implying that prostitution was a ‘career’ - made her laugh, the sound too loud in the kitchen.

"I’m a high school drop out and I’ve got felonies on my record. I don’t get a respectable career."

"You could get your GED."

"What?"

"There’s a community outreach program, at the library, that helps people obtain their GED’s and find employment. I could help you study as well. The services are free."

“You’re being serious.”

"Yes."

"Well, the weather here isn’t very good for outdoor jobs."

"No, it rains too much."

Meg finished nibbling on a crust of toast she had discarded earlier. Cas was finished with his dinner too, sitting across from her calmly, blue eyes watching, and he was an unerringly reasonable person. Stubborn too.

"What would you do in the winter anyway?"

"Buy a better coat."

"Just, give the program a try. Please."

"I guess I could do that."

He stood to take the dirty dishes from her, running hot water at the sink and cleaning them. Meg found a kitchen towel, and took the wet bowls from him to dry them.

-

It was still raining by the time they were finished with dinner, so Cas offered for her to stay the night. He put his canary to bed, throwing a cover over the cage. He offered her his bed for the night, and Meg thought he meant to share it. But then he started carrying pillows and blankets out to the couch, seeming intent on sleeping there.

"Come on, I’m not going to make you sleep on your couch for the night."

"I don’t mind."

“Seriously. Would it be so bad sharing a bed with me? I promise I’ll be on my best behavior.”

“I… I don’t want – “

“Cas, I got it, you don’t have to sound like a broken record. All clothes stay on. Just. I’m not gonna make you sleep on your couch, and I doubt you’ll let me either.”

He narrowed his eyes at her, thinking about it, like he was trying to consider if she really could be a good girl and keep her hands off him. Maybe he was wondering if he could keep his hands off her. Eventually he sighed and carried his blankets and pillow back to his bedroom.

Meg couldn’t remember the last time that she had shared someone’s bed without having sex with them. She couldn’t remember when ‘sleeping with’ a person was actually just sleeping. She wouldn’t admit to being a cuddler, but there was something comforting in the warmth of another person’s body and listening to their heartbeat. Castiel led her back to his bedroom, as mish mosh as the rest of his apartment was. There was a mound of blankets on his bed, every one a different color and a different pattern. There was a plain wood nightstand with a glass lamp on top, and a dresser that had drawers painted in different shades of green. The blinds across the window were missing slats, letting the street light shine in splashes cut across the floral wallpaper.

Castiel sat on a side of the bed, hands curled in his lap, like he was waiting for something. Meg could guess. She settled under the covers on another side, organizing a layer of several blankets over her, laying on her side facing Cas, she watched him. He looked at his leg, and he looked at her. It wasn’t light enough that she could see every vivid detail, but it wasn’t dark enough to hide his body. Eventually he sighed and rolled the leg of his pajamas up over the prosthetic, unbuckling and unstrapping, setting the prosthetic against the night stand before he rubbed his hands over his thigh and massaged at the scar tissue.

Meg wasn’t going to make a fuss over it, she wasn’t going to press him for answers, but she wasn’t going to avoid it, she refused to let him feel ashamed of himself. She didn’t care how it happened or why. Whatever he had done in his past, it had shaped who he was today but at the same time it didn’t have to be who he was today. There was always tomorrow. She liked Cas just how he was, quiet and intelligent and completely uninterested in traditional societal norms, intent on helping people who were a lost cause. She couldn’t bend him one way or another, he was simply who he was and accepted her simply as she was.

Still, perhaps it was something he wanted to share, at least a little bit of his burden that he tried to keep from other people, as he sat with his hands on his thigh, hunched over, a stripe of street light across the lower half of his face and his neck.

"I used to be a soldier."

"Huh."

It made sense to Meg. And it didn’t make a lick of a difference either. She reached across the bed and tugged at the sleeve of his shirt, pulling him down and pushing blankets over him, scooting across the bed to curl up against the side of his body as he let her move him this way or that, uncertain how their two bodies should occupy the same space under the blankets.

"So how did you end up in a library?"

"It’s quiet there."

"Mm."

Meg tucked herself under one of his arms, draping it up on her shoulder, laying her head on his chest, listening to his heart beat. He lay tensely next to her without shifting for several minutes, before his muscles finally relaxed and his arm around her shoulder moved up, fingers combing through her hair. Meg fell asleep easily that night, listening to the rain still coming down against the window, warm and safe next to Castiel.

-

In the morning, she woke up slowly, on her side with Cas pressed along her back, blankets tucked under her chin. Meg blinked a few times, breathing steady and even, basking in the lazy morning comfort. Cas was warm and solid and she could feel his chest move with his breathing, could feel his erection pressed against her back, his lips kissing lightly against her neck while his fingers pushed through her hair. She wondered if he knew she was awake yet, if he’d been like that a while, awake and touching her gently like he wouldn’t last night.

Meg got her answer when he pulled away slowly, shifting carefully on the bed up to sitting, pushing the blankets down against her back so the cold air wouldn’t intrude underneath them. Keeping her face pressed to the pillow, she listened to him fussing with his leg, and quietly padding out of the bedroom. She heard the water start in the bathroom, and watched the alarm clock tick away the minutes while he was in there.

When he came back out, she took her turn in the bathroom, using his shower after he offered, pulling on her clothes from last night that were now dry. They ate breakfast together, cereal and apples with coffee, while Birdy sang his good mornings. Cas didn’t talk a lot, unless he was prompted. There was one question Meg wanted an answer about.

"Why are you so sweet on me?"

"Because I like you."

"I don’t get it."

"That’s because you don’t like yourself very much."

"I could say the same about you."

"You could."

"So what do you even see in me huh? I don’t really got anything to offer, nothing you’re willing to take anyway."

"You have… a fierce sense of independence, strength, a drive to endure. "

"I’m not so sure those are good things. Woulda been easier to give up a long time ago."

"That’s just something else I think we have in common. Although it may not have been easy, you kept going, I kept going, and now we’re here."

"I do kinda like where I am now, I guess."

His small smile was almost smug, saying ‘there you go’, and maybe she could get behind that sentiment.

-

They went back to their usual routine, breaks on Friday’s and dinner on Tuesday’s. Meg couldn’t really afford to eat at the diner every week, although most of the time she ordered coffee and a side or one of the cheapest things on the menu. She wasn’t willing to give up what she had with Cas, and oddly enough found herself enjoying Dean and Benny’s company more as well, so she made room for it.

There were a few changes, more dinners spent over at Castiel’s apartment, the occasional platonic sleepover when it was raining outside and she didn’t want to walk home. Of course, it felt like it should be more than platonic cuddling, Meg wanted it to be more. But as the weeks went by Meg cycled through different reasons and drives to want to have sex with Castiel. It had been simply what she did with guys, it had been a way she felt she could offer something of value to him for his time and care, it had been a selfish desire for her own pleasure, it had been out of boredom. He kept turning her offer down, although he welcomed her into his bed it was always clothes on. There were a few kisses, a few adventuresome hands underneath shirts, and the slow gentle innocence of it drove her mad.

-

The world was soft edged and yielding in the morning, at least when she woke up next to Castiel it was. His bedroom always smelled like lavender and she had no idea where it came from. Cas was more tactile in the morning, blurry minded from sleep, warm and loose. He’d let her touch for a few minutes, hands tracing the lines of his scars and feeling out the patches of unmarred skin, fingertips brushed over his nipples and dragged down the curve of his spine. He seemed quite enamored of her hair, every morning she was there he would twist it around his fingers, run his hands over it and kiss the top of her head.

Some mornings, good mornings, he would kiss her, a hand on her hip and their bodies touching at the points where they curved out towards each other. She liked to see his eyes without the glasses, his face uncreased by the weight of the day. It was easier to be gentle to him in the morning, and let him be gentle to her, when sleep was still heavy in the limbs.

There wasn’t anything significant about this morning, the air cold outside the shelter of blankets and body heat. There was nothing to mark it as different in a sense of a physical catalyst. Yet Meg noticed quite suddenly and irrevocably that something was different. That perhaps it had been different for a time, building in slow increments she couldn’t have possibly noticed until suddenly there was a point ‘a’ and a point ‘b’ and she could look back and see a span of change between the two.

Meg was afraid to put into words this shift that she had noticed, something that was within herself as well as in the regard she had for Castiel.

It hurt. It was the realization that she would never be the same, and that she wouldn’t want to be, after she had met this man. It was the realization that she didn’t want him in parts or pieces, for what he could do for her, out of a sense of desperation or lack of other options. Rather, she wanted him for simply the sake of it, for everything he was. In the small moments, and the large ones, she knew unequivocally that she wanted Castiel there.

It hurt because she was afraid, because she had never felt something as all consuming as it before, she had never wanted to. And now, it wasn’t something she could control.

Castiel had kissed her forehead, his hand lingering in her hair, before he pulled back, like he did every morning prior. She reached for him, hand light around his wrist, asking rather than demanding.

"Stay, please."

He settled on his back, head turned to regard her.

"Please."

It was perhaps one thing she’d never said to him before.

Castiel blinked, and under his scrutiny she felt like he could sense it, this swelling sharp pain , like it was what he had been waiting for. Maybe he had felt it this whole time in himself.

He curled onto his side, closing the space between them, kissing her lightly.

"What do you want Meg?"

"You."

"Why?"

"I can’t imagine not having you."

He kissed her again, deeper, taking her breath and replacing it with his own. She ached, in her body and in her soul, to know him, and to be known by him. All her secrets, all the things she swept under the rug because she couldn’t face who she was, she wanted to show them to him. Because she trusted that he would take them all and catalogue them in that careful way of his before setting them back in order, neatly, reverently. She’d never had a desire like this, not just to touch him and share with him in a single moment, or for a purpose, but rather she desired a whole stretch of time, she desired eternity. She wanted his today, and his tomorrow.

He pushed the sweater she wore up over her head, bare underneath, dipping under the blankets to press his mouth to her skin, to her chest, lips hovering over her heart. Meg pulled at his shirt, fingers twisting in the cloth, whimpering until he propped himself up and let her remove it. She could see him in the morning light and the things that he kept from her, from himself. She wouldn’t let him hide underneath the blankets either, tossing them off the bed when he tried to duck back under.

His skin was patchwork along one side, the same side half his leg was missing, darker skin in places and pink in others, woven in alongside the tan healthy skin of his other half. She touched him everywhere, greedy for it, lightly skimming her hands along his shifting body as he moved over her. She untied the drawstring of his pajamas, and he mirrored her actions. He rolled over onto his side so he could take them off while she lifted her hips and pulled her own pajamas off, finally.

She hadn’t realized, but it was his smile she really wanted, his honest smile, stretching across his face and wrinkling in the corner of his eyes, wide and admiring while his hands roamed her bared skin. They touched and kissed and reveled in each other’s bodies, tender with the newly exposed vulnerability. Curled side by side and giving pleasure to each other with their hands and their tongues, they spent the morning languidly exploring this vast new territory that was far more than the stretch of their bodies.

-

As Autumn turned into winter, snow falling in earnest, Meg stopped working as much. Castiel had offered his apartment to her, insisting that she needn’t pay rent, that she didn’t owe him anything. Meg still hated accepting any help, any kindness, from anyone. But she found herself wanting and willing to take it from him. She decided to hunker down for the winter with Cas, and study.

She went out when she could for work, to pay for her own food at the least, and Castiel never said anything against it. Meg was careful with protection and went to the free clinic every month. She barely worked maybe one or two weekends in a month, the weather slowing down traffic anyway. There was an understanding between her and Cas, that she needed to do what she could for now, that she couldn’t stand to be a burden as she thought of it, whether he saw her in that light or not. And that she would find her way to higher ground soon.

By the time spring rolled around, she had already earned her GED – for which Castiel surprised her with a small party at the diner – and she decided to stay away from the streets for good, hunting for minimum wage jobs instead. Castiel made rent well enough on his own though, and only smiled at her more when she was home at night after his work.

They talked more, about themselves, and about their pasts. When they realized that the other was more accepting than they could ever be of themselves, they shared little slips of time here and there. Sometimes casually over coffee, or when a book had ended. Sometimes the only place that Castiel would tell her his secrets was in the dark of the bedroom, his prosthetic in his hand when he had to face it. He told her about his blind loyalty to his father, about following his brothers into war, for the glory of God and country.

He had believed it, with his whole heart, until he had found himself pointing his gun at civilians, killing women protecting their homes, killing children with no where else to go but the front lines. When he lost his leg he came home, he protested and spoke against such a corrupt and greedy war. He was outcast from his family. It had been a long and difficult road finding his way to Seattle, only with the help of strangers, the kindness of others who gave selflessly. He was determined to pass the goodness others had shown him along.

Meg saw nothing wrong with his story, she could understand to an extent but not entirely. Loyalty, bravery, to give yourself to a cause, it was easy to see that as noble. There were many who believed and supported what was being done. But sometimes his voice broke and his shoulders trembled when he talked to her late at night. Meg didn’t try to understand after a while, didn’t try to give him anything but her open arms.

She didn’t want to tell him about herself, but she craved his approval, his forgiveness. Even though he wasn’t the one she had wronged, she held his opinion so high if he could still feel affection for her, knowing who she was, what kind of monster she was, she needed that. So she told him about her youth, the myriad of mistakes that led her into a gang. She told him about craving violence, needing to hurt other people to make sense of things.

For some reason, it was usually during the rain that she could tell him the worst, it was a distraction, white noise, there was something melancholy and lovely about it. She watched the rivulets making abstracts on the windows when she spoke to him about the worst things. About the things that still haunted her, selling bad drugs to teenagers, and the boys that were dead because of it. Because of her. He never judged her, not for who she was, he only ever helped her make sense of who she could be. He told her the guilt was a good thing, because it meant that she was human, that she recognized her mistakes and was willing to pay penance.

They couldn’t forgive themselves for what they had done, but they could forgive each other.

-

Meg enjoyed the rainy nights best, that kept them indoors. They curled up in bed together reading until their eyes were too heavy to stay open. She liked the mist in the morning, and the chill that kept them under the blankets, seeking warmth in each other. She used to loathe mornings and having to face another day, but now mornings meant his smile and the affection in his eyes. She liked to press back against him, curling their bodies together, and she liked to flip him on his back to straddle his lap and stretch along the length of his body, she liked to lay on her back and pull him between her legs, and she liked to kiss him while they pleasured each other lazily with their hands. On weekends they fell back to sleep afterward, only rousing when the sun was too bright.

He was protection that she never asked for because she didn’t think she needed it, or that she deserved it. He was the affection that she couldn’t feel for herself. He was the guidance no one else gave to improving herself and finding a better path in life.

He was her shelter, through every rainy day.


End file.
